


(You and Me and) The Games People Play

by monanotlisa



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, M/M, Off-World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-18
Updated: 2008-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No spoilers as such, although I think of this as a S4 fic. In my head, the story's also known as, "Aliens Made Them Do WHAT?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	(You and Me and) The Games People Play

"Oh, no. You _must_ be kidding me!"

Sheppard's face is scrunched up in embarrassment, which always looks a little bit like constipation on him, and that's a seriously wrong train of thought in this context. But even before Sheppard's jerky head-shake, the fight-or-flight look in his eyes tells Rodney that this isn't an elaborate physical joke.

Emphasis on the physical.

It's not that Rodney wants to look; he totally, absolutely doesn't. It's just that his current vantage point gives him a good, wait, make that _excellent_ view of what's going on between Sheppard's legs. And whoa, who knew there was quite so much...to be going on?

"How, Sheppard? I mean, seriously: How can this possibly turn you on?"

 _This_ is, hands-down, the third-most awkward situation Rodney has ever been in his whole life. Being butt-naked, posed over and against — really can't forget the _against_ part — John, with the Relarian elders standing around them in a circle and counting down from six-hundred? Not Rodney's idea of fun.

Certain colonels' opinion obviously differs.

"Rodney, relax." It comes out a little breathlessly, and Rodney would very much like to think it's just because of the lessened airflow to Sheppard's lungs, or notably constricted chest muscles, or something along those lines. Anything along those lines. "Just my body reacting, is all."

"To what? People staring raptly at your skinny ass —"

"Hey!"

"— or to lying back on the silky grass with your legs in the air like you just don't care?"

Under him, Sheppard chokes a little, and for a fleeting moment, Rodney fears for his health. But Sheppard speaks again, and while his face is red, he doesn't sound oxygen-deprived in the least. "Shut the fuck up, McKay. I wouldn't even be in this position if you'd played the game right!"

"Oh, that's right, Colonel I've Played With Card Sharks In The Barracks Of Five Continents!"

"Like you didn't immediately go along, didn't tell Teyla and Ronon to sit back. The game itself wasn't challenging, the stochastic simple."

" _So were you, John_. If even on Earth the punishment for counting cards is severe, what did you expect in Pegasus?"

"Not this!"

Rodney grimaces, his arms getting tired and the tips of his toes protesting the weight on them. "Fine, yes, you have a point there."

"No shit. At least it's over soon." The Relarians have reached the three-hundred mark, and for the love of physics and rainbows, could they count any slower? "This is hell on my spine." John shifts a little, understandably uncomfortable, which makes his ass and God, his balls wiggle against bits of Rodney that don't need to be stimulated here and now.

"Stop!"

John freezes dutifully, but he also frowns. Up close, if more up than close, Rodney can actually see tiny beads of sweats form on his forehead. "Rodney, I kinda need to move a little, transfer some of the pressure. You're no lightweight exactly."

"Are you calling me — wait, never mind; not a fourteen-year-old girl here. So, uh. Do it."

John bites his lip, the lower one, as he always does, deeply distracting as always. He first spreads his arms a little wider to take the weight more securely, then rotates his pelvis slowly, carefully.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Now Rodney, too, is sweating, although that's definitely the physical reaction he's least concerned with. He can feel his cheeks redden. John, of course, can feel much more than that fill up with blood.

Much.

More.

"Uh," Rodney says, IQ points obviously melting away with every second that passes, or more likely: every movement John makes.

"Yeah." John barks out a short laugh. "Sorry. That's not how — anyway, don't worry."

Worrying is what Rodney does best, even in situations half as dire as this one, so he just rolls his eyes and resists the growing — hah, growing! — urge to do the same with his own hips, to grind himself more tightly against John, to maybe shift and adjust and let himself slip; oh, Jesus, what's he doing, fighting not to rut against his...his co-worker, his friend; how can he even think about —

" _Rodney_." There's a new tone in John Sheppard's voice, one Rodney hasn't ever heard. It's scratchy, a little hesitant, and what gets Rodney most, what actually gets his attention away from his body's loud, too loud demands is that he sounds almost _scared_. "It's not the situation, okay?"

"What?" Clearly, Rodney's still missing those crucial 71 points.

"I said, it's..." John's head lolls to the side; he now looks away, along blades of grass, at the be-sandalled feet of the ten closest Relarians. "It's not the situation, and it's not the goddamn position, Rodney. Although less athletic variants are. You know. Nice."

 _Oh_. "Oh."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So you —" at John's raised eyebrow, "right, no, yes! I get it."

Rodney does, and he assures John of the fact that he gets it and approves. A lot. On Relaria, but also later on, back in Atlantis when they're in their own quarters, safe and sound-proofed.

And if, from now on, both of them grin just a little too broadly when some smart-ass references Naked Twister — oh, well. Very well.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://unamaga.livejournal.com/profile)[**unamaga**](http://unamaga.livejournal.com/) 's French [Kamasutrathon (NSFW)](http://unamaga.livejournal.com/245419.html).


End file.
